EPICTETUS SPEAKS
stoic messengers scouts of god
do nothing against your will and you will not suffer harm
anything beyond your power is nothing to you
if you have a favorite cup remember it might be broken
embracing your child you embrace a mortal
death is nothing terrible your life is not your own
leave all these things and never look behind
decline nothing that is offered and do not be bewildered:
let him wish nothing whoever would be free
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AMY KATHERINE CANNON is a writer and writing teacher living in Los Angeles. She received her MFA from UC Irvine, where she was the recipient of the Gerard Creative Writing Endowment. She is the author of the mini-chapbook ‘to make a desert‘ (Platypus Press, 2016). Her work can be found in BOAAT, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Juked, and LIT, among other places. She is Managing Editor of Palaver Arts Magazine, a student publication.
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Read more by Amy Katherine Cannon:
A poem in BOAAT
A poem in Zócalo Public Square
We sit and watch the chickadees in the feeder, /
drinking hot tea, a celebration of security /
with dusk’s familiar arrival.
these clouds, some /
so light I can see the sky’s //
ridiculous boundary
they don’t rise or fall. they’re framed /
on the walls. driftless syllables ornamental /
and motionless.
After I dropped her off, I lit a cigarette and blasted shit that could most generously be described as coffeehouse punk on my way out of the suburbs. I love people, but I’m also a little relieved when they go.
we are the dumpster fire we encircle to warm our greedy hands in the dark
Every fart, /
burp and feces, the body’s /
speech. What a triumph /
to royal your own musk.
I haven’t been writing really but I’ve been /
thinking about the words, “Palm Rose.”
If they would stay just where they are all morning, /
they’d be the monument to the history they’re looking for.
Rain falls on the wedding /
a hole in the church is suspected /
and the blessing jumps crazily /
from umbrella to umbrella
“You will crush our enemies or I will crush you,” the voice commanded. “These are my neighbors,” I said. “I don’t get along with most of them, but I wouldn’t want to crush them.” “It’s them or you,” the voice said.
